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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233549">Signals of the Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealEnigma/pseuds/EtherealEnigma'>EtherealEnigma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain Marvel (2019), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apologies, Banter, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heart-to-Heart, Love Confessions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:41:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealEnigma/pseuds/EtherealEnigma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She blames the madness of the recent events for why she hooks her gauntlet up to the ship's display, that her mental instability and recent trauma is why her fingers hover over the button to initiate the call even as she tries to remind herself of all the reasons this was a horrible idea. But she had always let her emotion guide her and holds that as her rationale as she hits the holographic button. She can’t say she expected him to pick up, it seemed to be against all expectations. Yet the minute her finger touches the holograph, without even a dial tone or pause, there he was, like he was doing the same thing at the same time halfway across the galaxy.</p><p> </p><p>For the Yonvers Non-Denominational Holiday Gift Exchange for the lovely CatNerdsOut!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carol Danvers &amp; Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers &amp; Soren &amp; Talos, Carol Danvers &amp; Talos, Carol Danvers &amp; Tony Stark, Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Blink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatNerdsOut/gifts">CatNerdsOut</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the lovely CatNerdsOut! Your only request was banter so I hope I have delivered!</p><p>Trigger Warning: Brief Mentions of Torture</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>For the lovely CatNerdsOut! Your only request was banter so I hope I have delivered!</p><p>Trigger Warning: Brief Mentions of Torture</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>She knows that that feeling sorry for herself isn’t going to get her anywhere. When she left Boston and her childhood home, she promised herself she would never let self-pity get the best of her. Given it was basically the end of the world though, she figured now was as good a time as ever to throw all her values and inhibitions out the door. Since returning to her ship in orbit after the failed confrontation with the Avengers, all she did was lie in the pilot’s seat and stare out the window. She had never felt uncomfortable with the dark, empty confines of space that so many found overwhelming. In fact, she found the unknown, the endless darkness, endearing, intriguing. Now though, it all seemed <em>too</em> quiet, <em>too</em> vast, <em>too</em> desolate. For the first time, the void of space finally felt like just that to her, a void. She didn't even have the motivation to move to her bed at night, instead sleeping in the pilot’s chair and inevitably waking up with a crick in her neck, but that seemed inconsequential, all things considered. Besides, that was assuming she could even fall asleep in the first place which most nights seemed impossible. The only thing that could get her up was when Goose would jump from her arms and meow incessantly, indicating that it was meal time. She felt defeated, exhausted, emotionally vulnerable, and somehow incredibly nostalgic.  </p><p> </p><p>Her eye is drawn for what seems like the millionth time to the corner of her gauntlet’s viewfinder where a green light blinks at her: a light that indicates the status of a comm she shared with Yon-Rogg. A private, encoded comm channel had been established for the two of them the minute she woke up on Hala so he’d always be a dial away. At first, she had thought it was protocol, but looking it back, she doubted it. It was a huge no-no for a subordinate to have the personal contact info of their CO back when she was in the Air-Force; she certainly didn’t have her Captain’s pager number when she served and sure as hell wasn’t welcomed to buzz him whenever she damn pleased. She couldn’t imagine a world in which the Kree would be more welcoming of social interactions than humans. For nearly twenty years, the channel just sat there, the green indicating it's active nature but still unused. Either one of them could have disconnected the thing, it only took one of them to shut it down. A simple change in the string of code and the algorithm would become one-sided and corrupted, rendered unusable. But still, the light continued to insistently blink in a 1-2 fashion in the corner of her gauntlet’s viewfinder, mocking her, taunting her. </p><p> </p><p>She blames the madness of the recent events for why she hooks her gauntlet up to the ship's display, that her mental instability and recent trauma is why her fingers hover over the button to initiate the call even as she tries to remind herself of all the reasons this was a horrible idea. But she had always let her emotion guide her and holds that as her rationale as she hits the holographic button. She can’t say she expected him to pick up, it seemed to be against all expectations. Yet the minute her finger touches the holograph, without even a dial tone or pause, there he was, like he was doing the same thing at the same time halfway across the galaxy.</p><p> </p><p>When she sees him, a tension in her bones that she hadn’t even realized was there leaves her all at once. <em> He had survived. </em>She didn’t need him to want to have some heart-to-heart with her, knowing that he was still out there made this worth it. </p><p> </p><p>He looks different of course. He didn’t really seem older per se, 20 years were drops in the bucket for a Kree, but somehow he looked aged. His hair was blonder, features sharper, eyes duller; he seemed worn, haunted. She wondered if she looked the same with her messy hair and wrinkled, oversized AC/DC shirt, violet dark circles under her eyes and skin a sickly gray from lack of sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Yon-Rogg,” she says flatly, her voice hoarser than she thought it’d be after an extended period of unuse.</p><p> </p><p>“Vers,” he mimics, his familiar vibrato filling her chest with warmth.</p><p> </p><p>“Carol,’ she articulates annoyedly, “Carol Susan Jane Danvers, always has been, always will be.”</p><p><br/>“How could I forget? I’ve spent 20 years hearing about the escapades of Carol Danvers: Captain Marvel, the Savior of Civilizations, Favored Hero of Xandar.” </p><p> </p><p>“Was,” she corrects, “I <em> was </em>the favored hero of Xandar.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose you are right,” he says quietly. </p><p> </p><p>They settle into an uncomfortable silence, the sick reality that the planet was blown to bits weeks ago plaguing them.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you?” she asks, her voice softer and more sincere.</p><p> </p><p> “We’re holding on, some politicians were able to pull themselves together and reorganize Hala and the colonies.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t ask about them, I asked about you,” she maintains.</p><p> </p><p>His stoic gaze drops to the ground, a crack in his persistent facade. “Att-Lass and Bron-Char are gone.”</p><p><br/>Her throat constricts tightly. Despite everything that had happened, she had truly considered Bron-Char and Att-Lass some of the closest friends she had ever had. She still fondly remembered the nights they snuck off to Krylorian clubs and the many drinking games they had made up together. She had never wished ill onto them, she never would.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Yon-Rogg, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs quietly, “truly, I am.”</p><p> </p><p>He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing, “after all these years, I found them to be like brothers. I may not have been their commander any longer, but we still saw each other often.”</p><p> </p><p>“You retired?” Carol asks confused. He was still quite young and had such a promising career, he should’ve been promoted to a General at the least. </p><p> </p><p>“Something like that…” he murmurs.</p><p> </p><p>“Did the Intelligence take your rank after… <em> everything </em>?” Carol asks, wringing her hands out of sight with a sudden pit of guilt in her stomach, finding the prospect that she ended his promising career sickening.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Yon says, “they certainly weren’t happy, but they still maintained my service. I complied for a few weeks, but I requested an honorable discharge. I transferred to the academy as a teacher and acted as an advisor for Starforce missions when requested.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? Your old age finally catching up with you?” He chuckles weakly and she offers a small smile. It shocks her how easy it is to fall into this ease this light-hearted banter again, like no time had passed at all, like there were no lies between them, no betrayal.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I was just exhausted from keeping up with you,” he jokes back before falling serious again, “or maybe it just didn’t seem right after everything I saw, everything I did.”</p><p> </p><p>Carol wants to question him further, but then he asks, “and how are you really?”</p><p> </p><p>She barks a bitter laugh, “fine and dandy. I’m taking <em> great </em> care of myself if you can’t tell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I see you’re fueling your body with the oh so nutritious combination Myra-O’s and Kyrlorian whiskey,” eying the box of cereal and half-empty bottle laying haphazardly beside her. </p><p> </p><p>She grabs the whiskey and flicks the top off, mumbling “breakfast of champions, you know?” Before taking a long drawl of the bitter liquid.</p><p> </p><p>“And your -“ he hesitates to choose his wording carefully, “your <em> friends </em>from C-53 and the Skrulls?”</p><p> </p><p>She sloshes the liquid in the bottle, displeased with how much was left, “Talos and his wife, they’re okay, but their daughters, they’re gone. The man, Fury, he’s gone too. Monica, the little girl who isn’t so little anymore, made it and she’s alright thank god. Maria died about six months ago next week I think? The days are all blurring together now. Her heart just gave out one day, it came really out of the blue.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s- that’s awful, Carol. I know my words mean nothing, especially after everything that’s happened between us, but I am sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I appreciate that, Yon, really I do.”</p><p> </p><p>And then, the silence drapes them again, but this time it’s comfortable and safe, warm like home and so familiar. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Yon?” She asks tentatively, her eyes unfocused on the ceiling of her ship above her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Carol?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve missed you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve missed you, too. More than I should.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” she finishes the bottle even as her eyes are burn with the tears that she refuses to shed, “why don’t we do something about that then?”</p><hr/><p> </p><p>They decided that they would meet on a refueling station that was within Kree territory, but was on the outskirts of the empire and considered to be neutral land. With all the madness, it would be almost completely deserted, save for some souls who wouldn’t care about their presence. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not hard to spot him amongst the stark nothingness. He was punctual as ever. It was 1600 hours on the dot and his feet were centered on the exact coordinate they decided on. She wants to snide at how perfect the accuracy is.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” she says coming up to stop right in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” he answers, his body so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, are you gonna stand here all day or are you gonna come inside?” She asks, nodding her head towards her ship.</p><p> </p><p>“I wait for an invitation unlike some people.”</p><p> </p><p>“Seems inefficient,” she replies leading him inside the ship before shutting the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t mind the mess,” she calls over her shoulder, kicking her loose boots under the couch, “I haven’t had much time to clean up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you have always been so tidy,” he says back with a smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Ha-ha,” Carol laughs flatly as she moves towards the fridge,“you can put your stuff down anywhere, Harveik Ale still good?”</p><p> </p><p>He nods setting his duffel bag next to the couch, “where’d you find this ship? It’s a pretty innovative model.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Nova Prime actually,” she says popping the tops of their beers on the side of her metal countertop, “they had an extra prototype laying around after distribution to the militia. Not too many technical bugs, good gas range, compact but not claustrophobic, plus it was free.” She plops herself into one of the bar chairs, setting the other drink next to the open seat. “Well? You coming over or are you just gonna let your drink get warm?”</p><p> </p><p>He snickers and crosses the room, taking the seat across from her and drinking from the amber bottle.</p><p> </p><p>She extends her bottle, “a toast?”</p><p> </p><p>He extends his bottle, just shy of clinking them together, “to?”</p><p> </p><p>She hums in contemplation, “the end of the world?”</p><p> </p><p>He clinks their bottles and says, “I’ll drink to that.”</p><p> </p><p>Carol swigs from the bottle, her nose crinkling in distaste. She had always hated the drink’s bitter, smokey taste, preferring something sweeter and smoother like Jekai Liquor. Yon loved the stuff though. Whenever she was too exhausted to fight after waking up from her dreams, they’d stay up through the night and share a late night drink In his flat. He had other liquors of course, but she knew it was his favorite so she always accepted his offer of a bottle. She’s kept a case in her fridge ever since, finding the drink calming when she has a nightmare. She’d have to restock again soon, she finished this case in nearly a week. </p><p> </p><p>“So where were you?” A hell of an ice breaker to have with someone you haven't seen in 20 years, but between them, nothing had never been off limits.</p><p> </p><p>“I was teaching a class of cadets on short shooting. When they dusted, their blasters hit the ground and went off. A couple of the surviving ones got shot, but nothing serious. It’s a miracle really. Where were you?”</p><p> </p><p>“New Skrullos. It was a holiday and they were having a festival. When the dusting started, the whole thing fell into complete, utter chaos. The crowds caused a stampede and killed a few extra hundred.”</p><p> </p><p>“How was C-53?” He asks, his eyes intent.</p><p> </p><p>“Earth,” she corrects, “and somehow even more of a mess. Since Earth isn’t super connected with the rest of the universe, they were completely in the dark so they just filled in the gaps for themselves. Some people thought it was a religious apocalypse, conspiracy theorists said aliens so I guess they were <em>sorta</em> right? It was a shitshow: looting, violence, general panic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds primitive. Why not just tell them what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes, “the world governments didn’t want to announce anything until they knew it was irreversible.”</p><p> </p><p>His tone is curious, asking “how did they confirm that? Wait a few days for an answer that never came?”</p><p> </p><p>Carol gripped her bottle tighter, the glass heating under her fingers, “we found the guy who did it.”</p><p> </p><p>Yon’s mouth falls agape at that, “Thanos? You found him? And who is we?” She wasn’t surprised he was aware of Thanos seeing as there was a close tie between him and Ronan and Korath. Carol had always thought the Kree were more involved and knowledgeable than they claimed during Xandarian Peace Treaty talks.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s this group of human heroes who protect Earth that all have these powers, plus that Asgardian Prince, that Racoon from that group that saved Xandar from Ronan, and Thanos’ daughter Nebula, the war criminal. She had a lead on where he went, we went there, stones were gone, the prince chops his head off. Not much of a story to tell. ”</p><p> </p><p>“So it is truly permanent?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods her head, gaze crestfallen as she downs the rest of the drink as it burns her throat on the way down. Yon-Rogg does the same quickly. </p><p> </p><p>She wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her hoodie, “let’s talk about something else. I wouldn’t have come all this way for a conversation I could have with literally anyone else.”<br/><br/></p><p>“What would you prefer we talk about then?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think you know. There’s a <em> big </em> elephant in the room.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes closed in thought, “what is there to say?”<br/><br/></p><p>She leans her head on her hand, pursing her lips, “a lot, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Leaning back in his chair, he opens his eyes and meets her challenging eyes. He maintains it until he knows that this is a nonnegotiable issue.</p><p> </p><p>“I never wanted to hurt you,” he finally says, burrowing his head in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“You did a<em> lot </em> more than hurt me,” she responds, her brow furrowed. “You <em> lied </em> to me, <em> kidnapped </em> me, <em> mutated </em> me, <em> manipulated </em> me! You killed my mentor, attacked my family, and put my entire planet in imminent danger! My nightmares were you all along!”</p><p> </p><p>“I was doing what I thought was right, what I was raised to believe was right,” he says carefully, his voice tired but honest.</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t right. It was <em>genocide</em>, it was <em>deceitful</em>,” Carol replies pointedly, her eyes blazing with betrayal and hurt.</p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t turn my back on my people, on the oath I made to the Intelligence, the promises I made.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about the promises you made to me?” she cries, slamming her hands on the table. “At my bedside during the transfusion, in the worst, most fucking unbearable pain of my life, you held my hand and said to me that you would be <em> there </em> for me, that you would <em> watch out </em> for me, that you would <em> care </em> for me!”</p><p> </p><p>A blush fans across his face as his eyes fall in shame, his voice quiet, “you heard that?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was the only <em>fucking</em> reason I held on you asshole!” </p><p> </p><p>The silence in the ship is crippling as she wraps her arms in a rare moment of vulnerability as the memories of her first moments on Hala, all the pain she felt in the medbay, flood back to her. Yon-Rogg rises tentatively, as if he were approaching wounded, wild animal.</p><p> </p><p>“Carol, I-“ he began delicately, approaching her as she backs herself away towards the wall.</p><p> </p><p>She cuts him off, her voice a whisper, “was there anything between us that wasn’t a lie?”</p><p> </p><p>He posture is weak and his voice broken when he insists, “all my feelings for you were genuine.” </p><p> </p><p>She looks up as he finally stands in front of her and takes her shoulders in his shaking hands, “every laugh, smile, sleepless night was real. You came into my life and made it better, made <em> me </em> better. You were strong, smart, tenacious; you had fortitude, morality, and humanity and I <em>adored</em> you for it. And when you left, I knew, I <em> knew-“ </em>his voice cracks as he presses his forehead to her clavicle, his shoulders trembling.</p><p> </p><p>“Yon-Rogg,” she touches his shoulder in concern, “why did you leave Starforce?”</p><p> </p><p>All at once, his body goes rigid. It takes him a moment to look up at her and she sees something in his golden eyes that she’s never seen before, <em> fear </em>.</p><p> </p><p>As he rises, she moves her hand to his cheek, running her thumb across a long, faded blaster scar on his cheekbone as an act of comfort. His shoulders still sag as he monotonically quavered, “on the flight back to Hala, I had my doubts about the Empire. I saw the Skrulls on that ship and they looked so helpless, so timid. I heard the helplessness in the General’s voice as he begged for his family's life. I requested the Accusers' backup, but they come with guns blazing to destroy your planet and all the billions of people who lived there on a whim. I saw your hurt and your anger towards me and my actions that were reinforced by the SI.  It all seemed so against everything I had known and believed in, but still I kept strong in my faith. The Kree were the heros, we were the saviors. Until…”</p><p> </p><p>“Until?” Carol encourages, sensing his creeping fear. She presses her other hand to his cheek so she is holding his face, hoping she can transfer a feeling of safety and trust to him. His eyes leaves hers and fall to the floor and her blood runs cold. “Yon-Rogg, did they- did they <em>do</em> something to you?”</p><p> </p><p>He’s silent as he undoes the ties of his long sleeved wrap tunic. Once he does, his hands fall to his sides again and he gives her a small nod of consent to finish removing the shirt, like he can’t do it himself. With unsteady hands, she unwraps the flap and slides her hands under the fabric. Under her fingers, she feels jagged patches of smooth skin, like scar tissue. She holds her breath as she pushes the top completely off. When the fabric hits the ground, all she do it choke down something between a gasp and sob within her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Covering his entire upper body are swirling violet scars. The ones near his elbows on his bicep are light purple, but as they wound themselves towards his heart, they got so dark and deep, they almost looked black. As her fingers brush over the scars, she can tell the swirling continues onto his back, but she can’t will herself to look. Suddenly, she realizes why the shape and pattern was familiar; they mimicked the obtrusive, slimy tendrils of the Supreme Intelligence. </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes are wide as she stutters, “they-they-”</p><p> </p><p>“Tortured me,” he finishes quietly. “They were furious at my failure and doubt and deemed it a necessary punishment for a heretic and fallen champion. When I was released, I knew everything had been a lie because no true god would treat a dedicated decibel with such depravity, not one worth following anyway. I vowed to myself that I would withdraw myself from it as much as I could. I couldn’t fight their wars any longer when I knew they were built on lies and abuse”</p><p> </p><p>Carol shakes her head in disbelief, her eyes blurring as she plants her shaking hands on his scarred chest. Her guilt suffocating her, she chokes out,“ I never would have sent you back if I ever thought they would do something like this to you, <em> never. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I never blamed you, Carol,” he insists, covering one of her hands with his.</p><p> </p><p>“You should!” she cries, pushing on his chest more firmly, “<em> I’m </em>the one who punched in the coordinates, who powered the thing on and for what? A stupid fucking message?!”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly her breath catches in her throat as she recalls his last words to her in the desert and her eyes go wide in sheer horror.</p><p> </p><p>“You said you couldn’t go back empty handed,” the tears she had desperately tried to keep at bay finally fall, “you tried to warn me about what they would do to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Carol-”</p><p> </p><p>“And I just ignored you! I completely disregarded it as some metaphorical garbage when you were asking for help!” she’s babbling at this point, disgusted with herself more than that AI. “You have to believe me, I would <em>never</em> want that, I would <em>never</em> want you hurt. I cared about you and I just betrayed you, I-”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, she’s pressed to his chest as he pulls her towards him, his arms strong and unwavering as the encircle her waist. She buries her face in the crook of his neck to escape her guilt and shame as she lets the sobs leave her, ugly and frantic.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> I’m sorry </em> ,” she hiccups, leaning her weight into him, “ <em> I’m so, so sorry.” </em></p><p> </p><p>He strokes her hair with one of his hands while still keeping her close. His voice is warm when he coaxes her, “you have nothing to be sorry for, you couldn’t have known, not even then.”</p><p> </p><p>His assurance doesn’t erase the guilt she has plaguing her, it doesn’t lift her heavy heart. It doesn’t change or excuse the fact that it <em> had </em> been her to put him in that position. But she can’t argue, not anymore. She was tired, so tired of everything: of the world and the wars, of how they left things, of her actions and of his. So instead, she just cries and he just lets her until her voice is hoarse and knees are so weak that he lowers them to the ground to kneel. </p><p> </p><p>When she can’t cry anymore, she lifts her head speculatively to face him. He gives her a tinge of a smile and she reciprocates as she sniffles.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry I cried all over you,” she mumbles with failed jest, taking the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe the wet patch on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head, “you don’t need to apologize, but I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yon-”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I need to say this,” he pleads. When she quiets, he takes her hand, “I can never fully express how sorry I am. I took you from your life and pulled you into something unjust and entirely unrelated to you. I lied to you and put you and the ones you love in danger. My devotions laid with a sadistic computer and not you, the person I considered most important. I was wrong and I will forever regret my actions towards you.” </p><p> </p><p>“For so long, I was so angry at you,” she says quietly, “but I think I see now that I was never really angry with you. I was angry at the Supreme Intelligence. You were misguided but sincere in those misdirections. Sincere towards me.” She squeezes his hand when she notices his glossy eyes, professing, “I could never hold this against you, Yon-Rogg. You don’t owe me any apology.”</p><p> </p><p>For the first time since she’s known him, she sees tears leave his golden eyes, althought they are few. She uses her thumb to brush the stray ones on his cheek. </p><p><br/>She’s not sure if its his nearness or the understanding they’d came to that provokes her, but she bewitched when she says, “I love you.” Still rubbing the blunt of his cheek with the pad of her thumb, she adds, “I always have, I always will.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes go blank before he laughs out what sounds more like a sob, pulling her close again. </p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” he confesses, peppering butterfly-like kisses on her face, “and <em> you </em>only, Vers, Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel, whoever you are.”</p><p> </p><p>She giggles airily, leaning into his touch and chasing his lips. Softly, she kisses the corner of his mouth before he finally catches her mouth and kisses her properly. It’s more delicate than she would have imagined, their first kiss. She would have thought with her fiery personality and his steadfastness, it would be a mesh of clacking teeth and aggressive clawing for dominance. Instead, it feels intimate as his lips move on hers, like he’s mouthing words of love and reverence which she replies to with her own confessions. The shapes of language, words of affection, on the tips of their tongues. The speed is slow, the pace is patient in its growth.There's no rush for a crescendo, no strong pulls or cement-like grips. Their touches are caresses and melodic, ghost-like fingertips dance on any patch of bare skin available to them. They were warriors, they were trained to be swift and forceful, not gentle and languid, but maybe they had matured past their expectations. Something so new is somehow so recognizable. She smells his favorite spicy cologne on his skin, can feel the slight disformity on one of his ribs from an injury she gave him when her powers were still foreign to her own hands as she grazes the ladder of ribs, see the zig-zag scar he has on his forearm from the transfusion. She wonders if he finds it familiar to: if he can feel the muscles he helped developed of her arms and back, smell the clean, waxy scent of the cheap, Kree soap that she still used out of connivence and habit, see her matching transfusion scar that bounded them like a string, even apart, always connected. It all seemed so out of place for two ruthless warriors, but maybe they weren't simple soldiers anymore. Maybe they had seen too much, experienced too much to be so robotic and angry. Maybe they had finally overcame what they were told to be and instead became what they wanted to be., what they yearned to be.</p><p> </p><p>As they break away, she leans her forehead on his, panting. “Stay,” she begs breathlessly, curling a hand into his hair, her eyes just as desperate as her words.</p><p> </p><p>Yon nods as he intertwines one of his hands in her free one as the other creeps to the small of her back. “I will,’ he vows as their nose touch before he kisses her again</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Settle In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carol wakes up at god knows what time, naked and legs tangled in the sheets. As she melts into her mattress, she recounts just how good she slept; the best night’s rest she’s gotten certainly since this whole thing happened, but maybe in months, hell probably even in years. She felt rested, a profound statement when relating to her. It wasn’t just that though. Something within her, within her soul, felt sated. Even with everything wrong in the world, she felt whole, complete. It seemed wrong to be so content during such chaos and injustice when so much of the world was suffering, yet so right. How long had she felt empty? How long had she lived with half of her heart missing?</p><p> </p><p>She knew the answer of course; it wasn’t rocket science to tell she had been missing <em> someone </em>, not something.</p><p> </p><p>She smiles happily as she yawns, turning on her side to snuggle into Yon’s warm chest but instead of hitting firm muscle, her arm hits her cold, lumpy mattress. Her eyes snap open as she sits up quickly, clutching her bedsheet to her bare chest. As she looks at the empty bed beside her and then around the small room with the clothes he left on the ground gone, she feels her heart drop to her gut.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was gone. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She feels the fulfillment she had seconds ago leave her all at once. She knows she shouldn’t be surprised, not really, but it still hurts. Last night, between gasps and tender touches, she had allowed herself to have hope, to have faith that this could last forever. That they could live in that blissful moment of peace and adoration forever, against all the odds and shit between them. It had been stupid and naive and above all else, it had been reckless. She literally had <em> slept with the enemy. </em>Who knows if anything he had said was even true? What if it had just been a ploy? She could only pray that all her important databites and halofiles were still intact.</p><p> </p><p>She throws the sheet off and swings her legs over the side of her bed, leaning her head back and clenching her eyes shut before letting out a long, defeated sigh.</p><p> </p><p>She gets off her bed, mumbling to herself, “that’s what you get for thinking your life is a fucking rom-com, Carol.” She grabs an oversized shirt sitting at the top of the pile in her laundry hamper, “for fucks sake, you're living in <em> Alien </em> not the fucking <em> Princess Bride </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Running her fingers through her tousled hair before letting out a string of Kreenglish curses as she gets caught in a knot. She slams the door button a bit too aggressively, nearly jamming it, mad at how shit her day was going. </p><p> </p><p>As the door swishes open, a pleasant scent hits her nose. It’s doesn't seem to be something burning or some kind of gas leak, but it's fragrant, spicy, and so familiar. Had she left one of the windows open? Maybe one of those candles that Monica always got her from the farmer’s market was left burning all night?</p><p> </p><p>She rounds the corner while pulling on the bottom of her shirt, annoyed by the way it rose up when she walked. Before she can walk through the doorway into the hangar and kitchenette, her feet feel like they’re cemented to the ground and her mouth goes dry.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was here. He was still here. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yon-Rogg stands in front of her stovetop, stirring something in the only pan she owns, eying the contents intently to insure they won’t burn. He’s dressed in his clothes from last night, probably not wanting to gallivant nude seeing as his bag was still by the door. Around him are the minimal contents of her fridge, at least the ones that aren’t out of date yet. She makes out a few key ingredients: S’jali pepper, Kavri eggs, Jaheri greens. The nostalgic scent instantly has a name, Crustum. A traditionally Kree breakfast dish he would make for her everyday before training. </p><p> </p><p>He was here <em> and </em> he was cooking her breakfast. A traditional rom-com trope, just with a hell of an <em> Alien </em> twist. </p><p> </p><p>He turns to her when he finally feels the eyes on him before turning back to his task and happily providing , “I thought I'd make us breakfast but it seems there wasn’t much to begin with. We’ll have to stop at the grocer before we leave if that’s alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth is wide as her brow knits as she tries to muster a response, she doesn’t even register his generous use of <em> we </em>, “you’re still here?”</p><p> </p><p>He turns around to her again, but noticeably slower, and frowns self consciously,“is that okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Her heart swells and she answers demurely with a tinge of a violet blush, “of course. Better than okay actually, it’s great.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiles warmly and agrees “great.”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes off her surprise and walks past him briskly, “I’ll grab us some plates.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are those in more supply than your pots and pans?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know I’m terrible at cooking,” she says, pressing onto her tiptoes to reach into the cabinet above her, “the less I’m in here, the better. I think I set off the fire alarms at the Starforce quarters like what, a dozen times?”</p><p> </p><p>He pours some finishing spices into his palm before throwing them into the pan, “never burned it down though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Came <em> far </em> too close,” Carol sets the plates and silverware on the bar before going to her coffee machine and throwing in a capsule, repeating the process. again She hands the Airforce mug to Yon and keeps the ‘world’s best aunt’ mug for herself, grabbing a pot of sugar and some milk and setting that out as well.</p><p> </p><p>He smells the drink cautiously, “what is this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Coffee, it’s a drink high in caffeine from Earth that's super popular,” she provides easily as she adds a few spoonfuls of sugar and a heap of milk to her own mug.</p><p> </p><p>He sips it and smacks his lips in distaste, “it's so bitter. Why would anyone drink this?”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckles, “not many do black. Let me add some sugar and milk?”</p><p> </p><p>He passes it back and she prepares it in the same manner she did her own, turning the dark liquid to a tan, caramel color. “Try it now.”<br/>
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</p><p>He takes it and again sips, but this time he hums.</p><p> </p><p>“Better?’</p><p> </p><p>“Better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” she says as she sits into her seat. She cups her mug with both hands, embracing the heat as she found the ship to be particularly drafty with her bare legs. “Is it still morning?”<br/>
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</p><p>“Barely,” he responds, his voice light with humor.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you been up long?”<br/>
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</p><p>He serves her some of the dish and does the same for himself, “maybe two hours at most. I thought it would be best to let you rest; I know your body isn’t adapted to the time over her since you took a few jumps. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression or overextend my boundaries.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t,” she insists quickly, “I was just taken off guard. You don’t usually hear of girl waking up in an empty bed only to find the guy in her kitchen cooking them a hot meal.”</p><p> </p><p>“A nice surprise?”<br/>
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</p><p>“A <em> very </em> nice surprise,” she takes a bite of her breakfast and she’s in heaven at the dancing of spices on her tongue, humming, “actually, an <em> amazing </em> surprise.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad.”</p><p> </p><p>As they eat they make casual conversation and it comes just as easy as it always did for them. It’s a comfortable atmosphere of teasing, smiles, and laughs between bites and sips. </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Carol says, the food on her plate becoming scarce indicating that it was time to get serious, “when I asked you to uh - to stay last night -  how long were you agreeing to exactly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” He asks, raising a brow, as he raises his fork to his mouth, a teasing glint to his eye, “are you trying to get rid of me already?”</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely not! I just want to see if we’re on the same page.” She swirls the lukewarm coffee in her mug before chugging the last of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” he draws, leaning back into his seat, “how long did you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head, her voice light and playful “don’t turn this on me.”<br/>
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</p><p>“You’re the one who said it!”</p><p> </p><p>“I asked first,” she replies pointedly and he laughs exasperatedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, then for as long as you meant,“ he smirks with his clever one upping as she huffs.</p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes in defeat. “Okay,” she drawls, suddenly pushing her food around her plate with her fork and eyes focused on the task, “ and what if I said it was for the long haul?”</p><p> </p><p>“I would say that I’m in.”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice gets quiet and all hints of humor disappear, her gaze downcast, “you can’t mean that.”</p><p> </p><p>His brow knits, but his eyes hold conviction, “I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Frustration edges into her tone as she retorts, “we would be fighting a war <em> against </em> the Kree, against what you believe, against your people and family.”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand that.”</p><p> </p><p>She stares at him with shock and a quip on her tongue, but then his warm hand is over hers and she all but melts at his touch. Her eyes lift to meet his tentatively.</p><p> </p><p>“Carol, I know that this seems to defy all logic, but I meant what I said last night. I don’t believe what I used to, but I do believe in you. I am well aware that by staying, I’ll be waging war on the Empire and everyone there, I want them to know the truth. In all honesty, even if that’s not what I wanted, I think I would still want to stay. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lip quirks into a shy smile as her cheeks dust violet and her eyes dart away bashfully, “how you speak so romantically for a Kree seems blasphemous at the very least.”</p><p> </p><p>“You always made me say things I probably shouldn’t,” he replies cheekily, popping a berry into his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“A good influence,” she decides with a giggle.</p><p> </p><p>“The best kind,” he argues, bringing her knuckle to his lips.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>“I cannot believe that even after all these years, you still don’t make a list for when you grocery shop,” Yon comments dryly, holding a bag open as she drops in a bag of some sort of bread. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s more fun to keep it spontaneous,” she teases lightly before being drawn away as another product catches her eye, “besides, I don’t really <em> need </em> anything in particular.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your pantry says otherwise,” he deadpans, looking over her shoulder to read the new package in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not really one for ‘kitchen staples,’ it's not like I can do anything with them. Hyik or Noja?” she says, pointing at two different brands of the same kind of spread.</p><p> </p><p>“Noja,” he answers and she hums in agreement as she passes him a jar, continuing down the aisle. “So what do you eat then?”</p><p> </p><p>“What I always have: snacks, prepackaged and premade stuff, honestly whatever requires the least amount of cooking and preparation. I have to admit though, I did miss your cooking. I could get used to eating like that more often.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll need a bit more filling your cabinets then,” he advises as he follows her.</p><p> </p><p>“Go crazy,” she replies, plucking the bags out of his arms so he can instead pick the products.</p><p> </p><p>He glances up to read the signs indicating the aisle’s categories before deciding to turn left towards where the grains and other basic foods were. </p><p> </p><p>“Who taught you to cook anyway? Doesn’t seem like a very militant-like hobby to just strike up,” Carol asks curiously, swaying the bag in her hand with her step. </p><p> </p><p>“My mother,” he says easily, “we didn’t spend much time together as a family, but she always insisted that we shared a full, homemade family meal together every night.”</p><p> </p><p>“It must have been nice though, to have carved out time with your brothers and parents like that,” she adds, “my dad worked too late for that and my brothers were out of the house as much as humanly possible. My mom didn’t really like to cook either, she was more of a TV dinner kind of parent.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me more,” Yon asks, his eyes glancing towards her and away from the shelves.</p><p> </p><p>She raises a brow, “about what? What I ate for dinner growing up?”</p><p> </p><p>“You,” he says, “I don’t really know anything about your life before we found you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” she says surprised, “um, what do you want to know?”</p><p> </p><p><br/>
“Everything,” he answers sincerely, putting a box of rice in her bag.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” she begins, her forehead pinched, “Born and raised in Boston, not like you know where that is. I was the stereotypical tomboy: jeans, rough-housing, and all. Uh, I had two brothers? Steven and Joseph-”</p><p> </p><p>“Was your family close, your childhood happy?”</p><p> </p><p>“God no,” she laughs, an edge of bitterness seeping into it with its blunt rhythm , “my parents argued all the time, I don’t even know what they saw in each other. My dad, he was a raging drunk and sexist and the apple didn’t fall from the tree with my brothers. Needless to say we didn’t get along well, but it all really fell apart when Steven died in the war. Enlisting right out of school was the best decision I ever made, even with all the shitheads in my class.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that where you met Maria, the woman you mentioned?”<br/>
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</p><p>“Mhmm, we were the only women in our class and became fast friends. On our first holiday off, when she found out I was just going to stay in my dorm, she practically dragged me into her beat up Chevy and drove like 12 hours straight to go stay with her family. When we got to Louisiana that Christmas, her family basically adopted me. I never spent a holiday alone after that and had way more people sending me birthday cards than I ever had I was even there with them when Maria had Monica, I can still remember how small she was. Seems so weird now considering that we practically look the same age,” she laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s wonderful,” he comments with a smile, grabbing something before giving it a quick glance and putting it back dissatisfied.<br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes are wistful as she leans on the shelf, “I was lucky to find family like that, you know? I mean, so few people get a second chance like that, to find love and fulfillment, a place where they feel like they belong and are wanted.”</p><p> </p><p>“I'm sorry I took you from all that,” he says suddenly, his eyes hyper focused on his shoes. </p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head, “you couldn’t have known.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wouldn’t have been a jump to assume that you had people who would miss you, who would mourn you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yon,” she urges, grabbing his hand with her free one, “this is a fresh start. We can’t erase what’s happened between us, but we can move on. Apologies are done for both of us now, right?”<br/>
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</p><p>“Right,” he nods his eyes holding her gaze before he squeezes her hand, “so, were you always so rebellious or was that just something developed on Hala to spite me?”</p><p> </p><p>She breaks out into a wide grin, “oh, you don’t know the half of it, Commander.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After finishing shopping, they went back to develop a plan of attack on where they should go next. After reading all the messages on her comm and decoding the various distress signals, they pick points on the holographic map over drinks and dinner. They decide that they would start with the nearby Kree border planets that had ore miners stuck in the caves amid the chaos and quickly (and anonymously) rescue them before turning their attention to some smaller empires that had delved into civil war and anarchy, completely ill-equipped for such a catastrophe. Civil engagement and negotiation wasn’t necessarily Carol’s forte, but hopefully with Yon-Rogg beside her, a seasoned military official, things would go smoothly. After doing dishes, Yon departs to use the hyperjet. As she gets into her flannel pj bottoms and graphic tee, she sees her unmade bed and comes to one singular thought.</p><p> </p><p>Where the <em> fuck </em> was he going to sleep?</p><p> </p><p>Yes, while they had slept in the same bed last night, that had been in the heat of the moment. They had basically passed out after everything, it wasn’t like they had gotten comfortable before dozing off or god forbid cuddle. Did Kree even snuggle like that? Or did they just lie next to each other on their backs, like unfeeling logs? Who is she kidding, Kree couples probably slept in entirely different beds, maybe even entirely different rooms. Matches were rarely made for love, rather they were made with elevating position and military career development in mind. She did have a small bunk he could sleep on, but he’d probably be too tall and it was really just a metal slab attached to a wall. She was probably using the term bunk a bit too loosely, it was really just a surface for individuals who needed medical attention to rest on, hence why it was next to a cart of infirmary supplies. If they did share the bed, would he want the right or left side? Did he want the quilt and the comforter or just the sheet? What would he wear to bed, his usual pajamas or just his boxers? And what about his stuff? He didn’t have much, Kree weren’t particularly materialistic, but he couldn’t keep his belongings in a bag forever. She had more than enough space in her dresser and closest to share with him but would he want to? Was he putting his toiletries next to hers in the medicine cabinet right now? Did he set his toothbrush next to hers? </p><p> </p><p>She sighs as Goose hops onto the bed, completely unbothered by her conflict. She had lived alone for too long. The last and only roommate she ever had was Maria and that was like living with her sister, simple and light-hearted. Living with Yon was anything but. Every decision, big or small, were implications on their relationship. It all seemed so small and inconsequential, yet so important. </p><p> </p><p>During the day, there was no hesitation. They got on fine, smoothly, even with the new small displays of affection they now shared  even though they still hadn’t kissed since their first. Something seemed so intimate about these night rituals though; there was something so personal about being together in the darkness of night. It was completely new territory, she assumed, for both of them. </p><p> </p><p>She’s gotten herself in such a tizzy that she doesn’t even hear the water shut off and Yon walk through the door, bare chested and wearing his issued Starforce robe and bottoms. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” he greets, drying his hair with a towel from the bathroom. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” a blush dusts her cheeks from embarrassment at being caught while thinking of all this. She sits on the edge of her bed, settling into a forced relaxed state where she leans back on her arms, before greeting back with false suave, “hey?”</p><p> </p><p>For a few moments, they stare at each other, the silence in the room making the awkwardness even more palpable. They both blurt out at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“Should I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you-”<br/>
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</p><p>Their mouths snap shut as they interrupt each other, both smiling at each other shyly. </p><p> </p><p>“Where do you want to sleep?” she asks bravely, her eyes suddenly becoming very interested with the standing lamp next to her. </p><p> </p><p>“Where do you want me to sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>She bites her lip, nervously, “you can sleep in here, with me, if you want to of course.”</p><p> </p><p>He scratches his head, “if you're alright with that.”<br/>
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</p><p>“I am,” she assures, patting the mattress as if to entice him. </p><p> </p><p>She rises as he asks, “do you have a preference?”</p><p> </p><p>From the gesture of his hand, she realizes he means of side and she replies briefly, “no.”</p><p> </p><p>He nods and allows her to choose her side before he takes the one beside her after she turns off the lights. They slide under her mismatched sheets and leave a sizable gap between them, their hands laying on their stomachs as they stare at the ceiling. For minutes, they just lay there, still and basically not breathing. Finally, Carol musters her confidence and she rolls to face the wall and away from Yon-Rogg.</p><p> </p><p>“You can come closer, if you want,” she mutters, her tone just above a whisper. </p><p> </p><p>At first, nothing happens. She wants to slap herself for being so stupid. Obviously, he felt out of his element, she shouldn’t push him. But then she feels the sheets rustle beside her and then he’s pressed to her back and she’s breathless. His hand rests at the ladder of her ribs, “may I - uh - hold you?”</p><p> </p><p>She turns her head to look at his golden eyes, still so bright in the dark room, “yes.”</p><p> </p><p>His hand slowly slips around her waist as he maintains her gaze. His fingertips graze the sliver of skin near hip from where the shirt rides up and away from the waist of her pants and she shivers. His ghostly touch evokes warmth that spreads throughout her entire body, but it's not lustful. It's pleasant and comforting, like a warm blanket enveloping her body or sitting languidly in front of a fireplace.</p><p> </p><p>Mesmerized, she places a chaste kiss to his lips. It puts a strain on her neck, but it’s worth it. It’s not an action of seduction. There’s no exploring touches or breathy moans. His grip on her waist tightens as she touches his cheek with deft, carefully fingers. It is sweet and meaningful and dissipates the tension between them. Her nerves go lax and she melts into him as he settles his head behind hers, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, Yon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, Carol.”</p>
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